PLOG IN THE LAND OF H2 OF O

POH!’, Plog screamed. ‘PLOG!’, Poh screamed back. ‘Where are weeeeee?’ Plog screamed again, matching Poh’s octave. If Plog had opened his eyes, instead of keeping them closed, Plog would have realized that there was absolutely nothing to be scared of. Because both Plog and Poh were sliding down a rather watery slide to somewhere. And it could have been just an ordinary slide, had it not been attached to a puddle on the street that Plog and Poh fell into. PLOMP! Both Poh and Plog landed on something that appeared to be like blue jelly. Getting up, Poh dusted her bums off, just in case some jelly stuck to them. ‘Poh’, Plog said, as his left ear twitched, ‘Do you think the puddle WAS the gate?’ Poh shrugged and helped Plog get up. In front of them, for as far as they both could see, there was a maze of pipelines. Some pipes were blue, some were red, some were yellow and some were polka dotted. Some were high, some were low and some were slanted. And all these pipes connected with one another. > ‘Hey! These pipes look just like the ones I have in my bathroom!’, Plog said. ‘The question is, how do we cross them?’ ‘Simple!’, Poh said sliding under one pipe quickly and jumping over the second one. ‘Follow me!’. It would be unfair to say that Plog was an athletic boy. A table was more athletic than Plog. But what he lacked in athletics, he made up for with enthusiasm. And with absolutely no idea where both of them were going, Plog and Poh began jumping over and sliding under pipes of all colours. Poh had been taught that sometimes, when you need to concentrate, you need to sing a song. But try as she might, no song popped into her little head. So she began to make up one. ‘Here-a-pipe, there-a-pipe Around we go Plog-a-splish! Poh-a-splash! In H2OfO!’